Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 08
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 08
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
"Now, Tom!" said Mr Mortlake, in a low tone, "attend to me. I have
brought you a file, some aquafortis, and a silken ladder. Apply the
liquid to the bars, and it will gradually eat into the iron--then use
your file, and the first impediment to your flight will be removed. Next
fix the silken ladder firmly, and your descent is easy. Do not begin
your operations until the inmates of the jail are asleep. You may get
everything ready by the evening of the day after the morrow. As the
clock strikes twelve, assistance will be at hand, and descend with the
first stroke, if all is right. Some one will be waiting for you. He will
whisper into your ear 'follow,' and you must follow as speedily as
possible. But, again, I caution you to keep this a secret from your
mother. Buoy her up with hopes; talk confidently of your acquittal; that
you are to have a learned barrister from Edinburgh. This will get wind,
and prevent any suspicion of your intended escape. Once safe, your
mother will receive due notice; and be assured she shall not be allowed
to suffer one moment more of suspense than is absolutely necessary. You
will not see me again in prison, I hope."
Tom's feelings were overcome. He seized Mortlake's hand, and pressed it
to his lips, while tears flowed in torrents from his eyes. He could not
speak.
Mortlake was affected. "And yet, poor kind-hearted boy," he said,
"people could deem you guilty of a murder. How little did they know you!
But away with tears. Be a man. You have a difficult part before you. See
you flinch not!" Then changing his tone, and speaking loudly, "Well! I'm
off to Edinburgh, where I shall see Andrew Crosbie. I have great faith
in him; and, as he is not a greedy man, I daresay, Tom, I may get him to
come here."
At this moment the jailer entered, saying it was time to leave; and
Mortlake, pressing Tom's hand, bade him farewell, until his return from
Edinburgh.
Tom treasured every word in his heart--not one syllable escaped his
lips, that might induce the most suspicious person to imagine he
contemplated flight. He spoke sensibly of his case; inducing his mother,
and one or two persons whom curiosity had prompted to visit him, to
suppose that he was very sanguine of acquittal; and, as the fame of
Andrew Crosbie extended over Scotland as a shrewd man and an able
lawyer, this result was not thought by any means chimerical.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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